


A Different Kind of Payout

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Maybe more - Freeform, One Night Stands, mutual consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: When a minor bounty drops into his lap, Boba decides to take advantage of the opportunity.





	A Different Kind of Payout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asher_Ephraim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/gifts).



“I try not to mix business with pleasure.”

Boba remembered saying that at the beginning of the evening. Solo had laughed at him, betting his freedom that the pleasure would outpay the business. It was an outrageous claim, even if the bounty on his head wasn’t very significant. In normal circumstances Boba would never have bothered with such a low-level acquisition, but Solo had literally dropped into his lap at a bar and things had… escalated from there.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to follow Solo up to the rented room. To prove him wrong? That hardly mattered, and once Boba handed him over to the Crimson Dawn it’d be a moot point anyway. Some messes were inescapable, especially when they were of your own making.

Solo’s co-pilot would have been the better deal; Chewbacca was an escapee from the Empire and there was a sizable reward for his capture. However, even if the Empire wasn’t worse than the Hutts when it came to nitpicking contracts, he wouldn’t have bothered. Capturing the wookiee would have been easy enough (and wouldn’t have led to the interesting situation he was currently in), but slavery was a line he wouldn’t cross. As far as he was concerned, if a slave managed to escape then they’d earned their freedom.

He spent a few minutes watching Solo try to navigate his way out of a shirt before taking pity on the idiot and moving in to help.

“Mmm, that’s better, isn’t it?” Solo rested his hands on Boba’s hips. “But you’re still overdressed. Unless you expect me to kiss that helmet?”

Boba wasn’t fooled. “You only want to see my face so you can win that bet.”

“Well, that might be part of it,” Solo admitted with a lazy grin. “But if we’re really gonna do this it’d be easier if I could touch actual skin.” He paused, some of his inebriated veneer vanishing. _“Are_ we gonna do this?”

 _Were_ they? He thought about it. If he was planning to deliver Solo to the Crimson Dawn- and he hadn’t signed any contracts yet- it’d be tacky to fuck him. Not unheard of in his profession, but it didn’t present the best image.

If he wasn’t planning to collect the bounty then his options were more open, including finding a more suitable partner. But Solo was here, he was willing, and the only cost would be another shred of Boba’s dignity. He also realized that he didn’t want to be alone right now. It was the anniversary of the First Battle of Geonosis, and while many people in the galaxy were already beginning to forget it, he would never have that luxury. He reached up, unhooked his helmet, and pulled it off.

Solo stopped breathing and his eyes widened, taking it all in. Boba’s shoulders tensed as he waited for the inevitable comment to follow. _You look familiar._ Or _Have we met?_ Or _I’ve seen you somewhere._ Worst, though, was when they knew. _You’re one of them! A clone!_ That inevitably led to a line of questioning he refused to answer.

“Wow, I sure know how to pick ‘em.”

No artfully lopsided smile, this time. Just a vague look of awe in his eyes. Boba cupped the back of his head and kissed him. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like engine grease, but for now it was enough. Solo all but melted into the kiss, his fingers scrabbling at the armor before finally reaching up to settle in his hair.

Boba pushed him back towards the bed, shedding armor as he went. The room was shabby, but the sheets looked clean and he’d already disabled all the bugs, so anyone hoping for a peepshow (or blackmail material) was out of luck.

Solo’s holster came off first, dropping to the floor with a clunk that made Boba wince. He undid his own ammo belt and set it aside with greater care. His shirt was already off. His pants were being undone. Other than a knife strapped to his leg he was unarmed. When was the last time he’d allowed himself to be so vulnerable? Too long.

In between fevered kisses, Solo was talking. He commented on Boba’s scars. On his armor. On his muscles and his hair and his mouth.

“You ever gonna tell me your name? Or are we just playing Mysterious Bounty Hunter and his Target?”

He debated not answering. Or giving an alias. But he was bound to find out sooner or later.

“Boba.”

“Boba.” Solo stopped nibbling his earlobe. “Boba _Fett??”_

“Got a problem with that?” He growled.

“No! No, kriff no, I just…” And he was off again, babbling about things he’d heard or wondered or imagined.

Boba shoved him onto the mattress and straddled him.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Soft blue eyes danced with mischief.

“See if you can make me.”

Boba accepted the challenge, managing to wring wordless noises of pleasure out of him instead. It was a much more gratifying use of his voice. Despite Solo’s initial show at ineptness, he proved to be more than capable of helping Boba forget everything for a while.

Later, as he sat on the edge of the bed to begin getting dressed, Solo draped himself against his back, chin on his shoulder; a warm and welcome weight.

“So…” He coiled a lock of Boba’s hair around his finger. “About that bounty…”

Boba hummed, pretending to think it over, though he’d already decided after the first kiss.

“Not big enough to be worth it yet,” he said.

“Yet?” Chucking, Solo nuzzled into his neck. “You think I’ll be worth it someday?”

“Maybe.” He bent to scoop up his ammo belt, clipping it on. “Depends on how much more trouble you get into.”

“Baby, I was born for trouble.”

Hands slid down his sides. He caught them and moved them away before they could investigate the contents of his pouches.

“Then I guess someday you might be worth taking in.” He stood, turning to look at Solo, who laid back down, hands behind his back and legs spread. The picture of temptation.

“Guess I’d better keep finding ways to stay on your good side.”

Solo lifted a foot, sliding it up along Boba’s inner thigh.

“Guess you’d better.” He pushed the foot aside and went to look for the rest of his clothes and armor.

“Hey, uh, thanks for the fun night, Boba Fett,” Solo said, pushing himself more or less upright again. “Maybe we could, ah, try it again at some point?”

Boba scooped up his helmet and looked at him. Was that something the scoundrel actually wanted? Even if he didn’t think his life was on the line next time? Interesting. And not entirely disagreeable.

“I’ll see you around, Han Solo.”

Smiling, he put on his helmet and left.


End file.
